The Unexpected Hobbit, or The FemBilbo Fanfic Frolics
by kkolmakov
Summary: A very original story of Bilba Baggins, a very common Hobbit, and her adventures in the company of Thorin Oakenshield. Actually, no. It's just kkolmakov having fun. And there will not be a single cliche here. I'd say no infringement intended, but I doubt J.R.R. would care.
1. The Only Chapter

In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit named Bilba Baggins, known to her friends as Billie. Admired and respected by the whole Hobbiton, Billie was quite an unusual Hobbit. She wore trousers, seemed completely disinterested in revels and gossip other Hobbit maidens were preoccupied with, and kept herself busy all day, helping those in need of guidance, support, and sound advice. She possessed knowledge and skills in almost any area a good Hobbit was to succeed, except one exception. A keen observer and a quick mind, she was blind and unaware when it came to her own worth.

Billie was a lovely maiden indeed. Her hair was golden and wavy, full, and glossy, though somewhat unruly, escaping braids, and coiling gently at her neck and temples, especially in rainy and hot days of Hobbiton Summer. Her body was light and nimble, with alluring curves. Her eyes were blue and framed with exceptionally long and fluffy lashes.

When asked by her many friends why she was still not spoken for in her age of bloom, she'd wave her hand dismissively, and mumble something in the sorts of, "Who would want a tomboy such as myself?" While in reality, most prominent bachelors of Hobbiton long time ago lost their hearts to her feisty charm and capable manners. After all, nothing in Hobbiton went without her participation, and everything fell apart when she were to direct her attention to any other matter.

And so, Billie persevered, her days full of gardening, reading, watching after other's children, who adored her from the first look, cooking, and making preserves, long hikes, knitting, embroidery, helping men in the Municipality Council, teaching in the local school, and occasional fishing, which she was quite good at, when one day everything changed, with a knock that came to her door.

Billie was just sitting down to her supper of venison stew, with dried apples, prunes, tubers, wild garlic, and the secret mix of herbs, that had been passed from a generation to a generation of women in her family, when she had to get up, put aside her napkin masterfully embroidered with petunia flowers, and go to the door. She pulled the ends of her velvet, dark green robe's belt tighter, and jerked the round copper handle.

A Dwarf stood on her threshold. He was tall, looming over her, wide shouldered, and violent looking.

"Dwalin, at your service," he rumbled, and his eyes appreciatively ran her figure.

"Bilba Baggins, at yours," Billie muttered surprised, and the Dwarf smirked lopsidedly.

"Well, lass, will you let me in? And where is it?"

Billie stepped aside, letting him in, and then watched him wipe his feet.

"Where is what?" she asked.

"Supper, lass. Where is the supper, lass?"

Billie gave him a studying look and pressed her fists into her round hips.

"I do not recall inviting any guests tonight, Master Dwarf. So, do not expect much."

"You have temper, lass. I love it!" He chuckled and smirked again. "You are a fiery lass, lass!"

Suddenly he stepped to her and grabbed her hand, that looked small and gentle in his bear paw.

"Roses are red, your eyes are blue! I'm a Dwarf, and a hubby material too!" he announced gleefully, and then broke into booming laughter.

Billie pulled her hand out of his grip, and opened her mouth to berate the insolent man, when another knock came.

While Billie turned to the door, Dwalin disappeared in the depth on her house, stomping loudly.

"Balin, at your service," announced the second Dwarf she found behind her door. This one was older and had smart, twinkling with mirth eyes.

"Bilba Baggins at yours," Billie muttered even quieter than the time before, starting to feel quite alarmed.

"And a fine lass you are, lass." The one called Balin chuckled, and entered her house. "I see my brother is here already, since I see a cloak on the hook, and it is my brother's."

Billie had nothing better to do than invite the Dwarf to join the supper.

The men greeted each other, in quite unusual way, but Billie somehow intuitively knew that although rough and unmannered, they were decent people and were safe to invite into her house after dark.

And then another knock came, and Billie marched to let more guests in.

These two were young and gorgeous, and immediately they started looking at her somehow strangely. Billie just could not quite understand why they would stare at her unblinkingly and breathe heavily.

And then more and more Dwarves arrived, and finally Billie understood the reason for this kerfuffle in her hole. It was of course Gandalf the Grey who was to blame for it! Gandalf the Grey, the wandering wizard, famous in Hobbiton for his fireworks. Unlike her neighbours, Billie somehow intuitively knew that there was more to him than just fireworks, and she always treated him with respect and hospitality. He came quite often to her, seeking her advice and talking for hours with her about matters of the many far away lands.

And then all these Dwarves were to be seated and fed, and although they started misbehaving, they quickly remembered decorum and table manners under her strict stare and at the view of her tapping foot.

Very quickly genuine camaraderie was born between her and the Dwarves, and they were telling her of their people, of the traditions, of their travels, and of the past, mentioning how they had lost their Mountain kingdom Erebor to a dragon. Gandalf smoked at the end of the table, smirking knowingly. Billie's heart wept and bled for the loss that her new friends had endured, and she swore solemnly to herself that she would do everything in her power to aid them.

After the dinner was over, the Dwarves quickly washed the dishes, and offered to entertain their kind hostess with music.

"Our mistress doesn't lack talent in music herself," Gandalf mentioned nonchalantly, and chuckled when Billie grew pale under the intent stare of twelve pairs of eyes.

"Oh no, I am hardly..." Billie tried to argue weakly, but the Dwarf named Dori was already pulling her in a circle, and all Dwarves begged her to grace them with her singing.

Billie sighed, but somehow it was impossible to refuse to sing.

I will leave my heart at the door

I won't say a word

They've all been said before, you know

So why don't we just play pretend

Like we're not scared of what is coming next

Or scared of having nothing left

Look, don't get me wrong

I know there is no tomorrow

All I ask is

If this is my last night with you

Hold me like I'm more than just a friend

Give me a memory I can use

Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do

It matters how this ends

Cause what if I never love again?

I don't need your honesty

It's already in your eyes

And I'm sure my eyes, they speak for me

No one knows me like you do

And since you're the only one that matters

Tell me who do I run to?

Once Billie's voice died, she saw all twelve Dwarves frozen, their faces emotional, and she could have been wrong but she thought she saw the Wizard discreetly wipe a lonely tear off his eye.

"Mahal help me, lass, you know how to melt a man's heart..." the Dwarf named Bofur spoke raspily, and then smirked. "You would make a good Dwarven wife, lass."

Billie blushed furiously. She had not expected to enjoy this compliment so much, although of course she hardly believed it.

And then another knock came to the door. Billie excused herself and went to see who had arrived now. She vaguely remembered the Wizard mentioning another Dwarf, but she was so busy trying to convince Ori to eat his vegetables, and make sure that everyone was pleased with their dessert - seedcake, scones, and chocolate chip cookies of her paternal grandmother's recipe - that Billie found herself quite unprepared to what she saw when she jerked the door open for the last time that evening.

* * *

 **This story will probably never be continued… :P**


	2. One More, But That's It

**OK, one more (just because I'm in a giggly mood), and then no more of this nonsence! :P**

* * *

Billie felt her knees buckle, her head swim, her heart fluttering in her chest, her hands growing clammy, while she felt her pulse in the throat, and she swallowed with difficulty. The Dwarf standing in her door frame was astonishingly beautiful. He perhaps lacked the traits that any normal Hobbit would consider attractive: his nose was too long, there was facial hair, and his silky wavy ebony strands with silver streaks in them were just asking for a cut, and because of the boots Billie could not quite see, but she suspected that his feet - the main attraction in a man for any respectful Hobbit female - were small and hardly hairy. And yet Billie swooned.

He was looking down, as if to show his best angle, and then the thick, fluffy lashes - too long and feathery for a severe Dwarven warrior that Billie intuitively guessed he was - flew up, and he threw her a smouldering look. Billie shivered.

"Gandalf! I thought this place would be easy to find. I lost my way - twice. I would not have found it at all, if not for the mark on that door," the man rumbled, drawing the thick black brows together.

"What mark on the door?" Bilba squeaked, quickly recovering from her shock. "It was painted a week ago! There is no mark on that door!"

"There is a mark," said the Wizard. The Dwarf continued standing in the door frame and looking good. "I left it there myself."

"Bilba Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield." The tall and enticing Dwarf stepped in, invading Billie's personal space, and shaking off his cloak, revealing a fur collared coat over a dashing looking brigandine, more of a long waistcoat really, and Billie felt flustered by the view of his wide masculine shoulders and strong neck with pronounced tendons. She felt acutely uncomfortable in her cozy quilted house robe. She had made it herself and had received plenty of compliments from those who happened to see her in it, as well as her other garments she had happened to conjure, as she was very proficient with a needle and in patchwork, and yet she felt like running to her wardrobe and changing.

Billie shook off her unease and proudly lifted her chin. Firstly, she had not invited either of her new friends to her home. And secondly, she was not changing for any man. After all, she was her own independent woman. And another thought crept into her mind seemingly against her will. It was not like she could look any better anyway. She was no charming debutante on the Hobbiton Annual May Cotillion Revel.

"So, this is the Hobbit," rumbled the imposing Dwarf. Goosebumps ran Billie's back from his velvet baritone, as smooth and sweet as her Aunt Milly's double chocolate fudge. He looked her over, cocking one thick black brow. "Looks more like a debutant on a Spring ball than a burglar."

Billie immediately felt her temper rise. Who did he think he was?! she thought. She was feeling all sort of confusing feelings, the feeling of wounded pride, that made her feel irritated, and the feeling of admiration that she felt - of course - towards the noble and honourable character of the Dwarf that she intuitively felt was there, and not at all towards his looks. All these feelings made her feel all sorts of things, and some of the feelings were confusing, and some she couldn't quite understand.

But Bilba Baggins was no silly woman to be confused by long nosed, swashbuckling Dwarves. She was Bilba Baggins of Bagend. She decorously invited the Dwarf to the table and even treated him to a bowl of her best pheasant stock soup with thyme, basil, parsley, bay leaf, rosemary, and tarragon, parsnips, turnips, and carrots, served with slices of her best freshly baked sourdough bread.

* * *

Then all sorts of boring and alarming discussion happened, and Billie found herself offered a position of a burglar in the company of Thorin Oakenshield.

Bilba refused firmly, only lamenting that surely the company of thirteen, war hardened Dwarves, and a Wizard with unknown but clearly impressive powers were sure to find their sure demise in the most tragic way without her help and supervision.

* * *

After settling her guests down with another teapot and another of her best blueberry and raspberry pies, Billie sank in her favourite, pale green armchair, and sipped her favourite chamomile.

"Bilba Baggins, I expected more from a daughter of Belladonna Took." The Wizard sat in front of her and gave her a kind look over, his eyes twinkling with mirth and amusement.

"I am Baggins of Bagend, Gandalf the Grey, " Billie softly reminded him. "I can't just go running off into the blue!"

"Did you know that your great great grandfather?!.." the Wizard started, and Billie puffed air, and interrupted him.

"I cannot just go, Gandalf, as much as they need me, and as much as you ask me. I can't sign it. I have my duties and responsibilities here!"

"But what of your responsibilities towards them?" the Wizard pointed towards the living room, where - as little as Billie wanted to think of him - the grumpy King sat with his warriors.

Billie mournfully shook her head, and then the Wizard puffed out a ring of aromatic smoke, and gave her a cheeky look from his squinted eyes from under cocked brow.

"But what about the prophecy, Bilba Elizabeth Baggins? Are we going to pretend it isn't what you're thinking about right now?"

Bilba's cheeks flamed.

"It's just an old nursery rhyme! I'm not the lost Heir of Durin, the Bespoke Half, the Progeny of Aule!"

"What did you just say?" the King's low emotional voice rumbled from the door, and Billie gasped.

How had he managed to creep up and eavesdrop on her and the Wizard and overhear about the prophecy of her being the Saviour of Longbeards completely by accident, considering how squeaky Billie's floorboards were?!

* * *

 **Seriously, that's it. No more ;)**


End file.
